It's a Sunny Day for a Cold Afternoon
by Lily18995
Summary: Matt was used to his life and the way he was living it, his only escape from his world being in the video games and cigarettes hes so addicted to. But when he meets a girl so stunningly innocent he can't stay away he knows something's gotta give. MattXOC
1. Sure Looks Good to Me

**Okay, so this is my second Death Note fanfic. I don't know much about the characters, truth be told, so there will be some definite OOCness with Mello and Matt, but I love them so much that I had to write a fic for them. So this is it. Please review with constructive criticism! **

**-Alice**

**Rylie**

"Rylie!" A sharp voice pulled me out of my nearly-there sleep and I sat up stiffly, rubbing my eyes.

"What?" I questioned blearily, my mind still crowded and hazy. I directed my eyes upwards to find the very angry face of my boss, William, above me, glaring down at me heatedly.

"What the hell are you doing, sleeping on the job? Get your ass back to work Rylie!" He grabbed me roughly by the arms and dragged me upwards, holding onto me until I found my feet and then let go, running a hand through his raven hair, sighing wearily. "Ry, we need all the help we can get today. Are you really that tired? I mean, how can you fall asleep _here? _It's not safe, you know the types that hang around."

_Here _was Louie's Bar and Diner, a run-down 1970s building built on the untested theory that diners and bars make a good match, which they don't. Louie's is now primarily a bar where I earn my pay by tolerating numerous grabs at my ass and leering remarks with grace and humor and as much dignity as the situation allows, and doing so while serving alcoholic beverages to fat, middle-aged men.

"I'm sorry," I told William earnestly. William was a good boss to me- he did as much as he could for me when it came to pay raises, and he stepped in quickly when things with drunken men were getting out of hand, no matter how much money he stood to lose. He gave me a small smile and squeezed my shoulder. "Don't be sorry Rylie, just get back to work please. I'm sorry I snapped at you, this place is just really wearing on my patience…" he drifted off, obviously wanting my corner to himself. I nodded, straightening my uniform, and headed back inside towards the smoky building. Just five more hours left in my shift.

**Matt**

Matt's monthly trip to the video game store came as a welcome break from his other life- a step back from his best friend and the mafia and the serial killer they were all trying to find, each for their own twisted reasons. He looked forward to these trips with an eager intensity, one that rivaled his need for the cigarettes that kept him going. Mello wasn't pleased that Matt kept going out- if he was caught, their entire plan could be screwed over, and Mello and Matt could both end up dead (and really, Mello didn't care about the lives of anyone but them.).

But, it was the one remaining shred of innocence that Matt still possessed, and he'd be damned if he was going to give it up voluntarily. He snuffed out his cigarette under his shoe and headed into the building, doorbell ringing as he crossed the threshold.

The clerk looked up from behind the check-out desk, a boy just a few years older than Matt who probably hadn't seen the half the things he had. "G'morning sir," the boy said lazily, before turning his attention back to the computer screen.

Matt nodded in response, though he knew the boy couldn't see him, and headed towards the back of the store. As he approached the very last row, he noticed that instead of being empty, like how it normally was and how he liked it to be, there was a small red haired girl kneeling, curls tumbling down her back and contrasting sharply against her white tee shirt and black skinny jeans. He didn't pay much attention to her, it was just a girl (though he certainly didn't see many of those in Game Stop.).

He scanned the row: titles of Grand Theft Auto, Final Fantasy, and God of War jumped out at him, but there was nothing he too desperately wanted. He sighed. Mello gave him all this good money, and he didn't even feel appropriately invigorated to waste it. He wanted another cigarette.

"This one's good." A high, feminine voice broke through his pouting, and he started. It was the redhead, standing now, though she still only came up to his shoulders. She had a pretty face, too, he realized, smooth, ivory skin and large, innocent blue eyes, with cutting cheekbones and wonderfully shaped lips. He realized he was holding his breath. He wasn't used to being around pretty girls who weren't whores or diabolical criminals.

"E-excuse me?" he stuttered, slightly stunned by the sight of her. It wasn't that she was so traditionally beautiful, she didn't have the blonde hair and come-hither eyes of the sexily-clad prostitutes he was so used to. But she positively _glowed _to Matt. His eyes traveled up and down her thin frame once, analyzing the curves of her small waist, thin hips, chest, and the legs that were surprisingly long for such a short person. God, he thought to himself, what the fuck is _wrong _with me?

The girl laughed. "You looked like you couldn't pick a game out. Crisis Core is real good, you have a PSP?" she questioned him.

Matt nodded at her, and though the effect of her looks didn't wear off on him he started to put his shield up once more. _Don't trust anybody. _

She sighed. "I don't have one, but I used to play it on my boss's. You should try it."

He grinned at her shyly. He found it awfully hard to be tense around her, as hard as he was trying to be on guard.

"I think I will, beautiful," he said, reaching out and plucking it down from the shelf. The girl smiled widely at him.

"You look kind of familiar," she said, "you come here often?"

He inwardly groaned at her observation; a sign that he should start switching stores and driving farther so people would recognize him less. "Not as often as I'd like," he replied. Might as well make small talk while he can.

"Sir, ma'am," the boy from the check-out desk called out, "I'm gonna have to ask you to leave now, the store's closing soon."

"Alright!" the girl called over to him in response and she grinned at Matt. "Are you really going to get that?" she asked, pointing to the video game he held in his hand.

Matt smiled. "Didn't you suggest it?"

She looked down shyly. "Indeed I did," she said, "should we get going then?" She bent down to retrieve a backpack that looked too large for her to carry and two other large grocery bags in either hand, while Matt marveled over the easy way she said _we, _like she had been doing it for a long time.

He frowned at her overbearing load. "Can I-"

"No," she cut him off, leaning over slightly to make the weight on her back more bearable. "Go buy your game before they kick us out," she told him. He went over and did as he was told, mentally kicking himself all the while for how he was reacting to her.

He was pleased to find that instead of heading straight out like he had expected, she had knelt down to tie her shoelace and was therefore exiting the shop at the same time as him. "So," she started, before she was suddenly gone from Matt's side, falling faster towards the ground. He reached a hand out quickly and wrapped it around her waist- it was pure reflex for him, and he set her back on her feet quickly.

She blushed heavily. "Thanks for that," she muttered under her breath, eyes averted, "I think, I, um, slipped on some, um, ice, I guess. Or my shoelaces."

Matt grinned at her embarrassment. God, she was stunning, but he couldn't figure out why he was suddenly so attracted to her. "No problem, beautiful," he told her, the worn nickname for most figures of the female sex sliding off his lips easily. He reached for her backpack and pulled it off her shoulders. "But now I insist."

She started to protest when he slipped the straps of the backpack off her arms, but then stopped, instead turning her focus back onto the other two bags she was carrying.

"What's all this?" Matt asked her, feeling the surprising weight of the backpack on his shoulders.

"Oh," she said, "I've been sleeping at different friends' houses lately."

Matt stiffened. "Babe, do you mean to tell me you've got no place to live?"

She glanced up at him. "I will soon," she said warily, "I'm just saving up." They reached what he assumed was her car and watched her fish around in the pocket of her tight jeans for her keys.

Matt started to say something, but then Mello's angry face flashed through his mind, the profiles of all the mafia members gluing themselves there. No matter how pretty this girl was, it wasn't safe to get to know her. _None of my business. _

She opened the door and slid the two bags onto the bottom of the seat, and stepped back so he could do the same with the heavier backpack. After he was done she slammed it shut and leaned against it, looking up at him. "Thanks again," she said, chewing on her lip nervously. "Do you need a ride anywhere?"

He chuckled inwardly. _Don't offer rides to strangers, babe. _God, so _naïve. _It was wonderfully refreshing. "Nah, thanks though, lovely," he told her, and watched her blush again at the label.

He showered compliments on the female gender with ease, so rare it was that he was in their presence, but it felt more meaningful saying them to her. "Well," she said awkwardly, "I guess I should get going then."

He knew that he should turn away, but he couldn't let her go without one thing. He grabbed her arm, and his entire body jolted with the simple contact. "What's your name?" he asked her, knowing that this simple piece of information was more dangerous than she could possibly know, though he was already certain he would make sure it would never be used against her in that way. He had dismissed the thought of her working for Near or Kira a while ago. There was something about her that said there was no such possibility- and while he knew he was a fool, he couldn't help but believe everything she said.

She looked up at him and licked her lips, and Matt deducted that while the movement was probably unconscious, he really wanted her to do it again. "Rylie," she said, without offering a last name. He let go of her and she smiled shyly at him once more, before moving over to the driver's side door and starting the engine.

Matt watched her drive away, her name, _Rylie, Rylie, Rylie, _burning like a bullet in the back of his brain. He was a mafia member, and while he was a reluctant one and still a geeky gamer, and would never be a Mello, he knew better than to fall in love with one glance. He ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his goggles, feeling the video game she suggested shift in his pocket. The odds of him seeing her again were depressingly slim, and he knew it. But at least he had this game to keep him company.

He hadn't realized, until he was back in the safe house working on the computer, what it was that had made her so irresistible to him. She was so perfectly _innocent, _and so unlike what Matt was used to, and when he was around her, he forgot about all the things that he had done and was doing, and all of the danger he was in. And that, that was why he couldn't see her again. _Don't spread the poison. _


	2. In My Head

**Okay, so I changed the previous chapter a little but. Not much and it's not necessary that you re read it, but it's just a couple grammatical things that I found and a couple of sentences added and rephrased. **

**R****ylie**

For two weeks, I found that I could not get the boy with the auburn hair and orange-tinged glasses out of my head. I hadn't caught his name, but his face stayed in my mind. I went back to Game Stop a lot in my free time, hoping to see him, but he was never there. I started to think that I had imagined him. He looked like he had belonged in a video game, I reasoned, perhaps he was only visiting our world and had gone back home.

While I knew this wasn't the case, it was an entertaining thought to have, and I liked the image of him off fighting in some video game world. It suited my image of him, barebones as it was. And strangely enough, I also liked to picture myself off fighting alongside him. Anywhere that wasn't here.

"Hey sweetheart, mind getting me a beer?" A grimy hand reached up to cup my ass, and I felt my self stiffen, clenching my jaw.

"Of course, sir," I said, nicely as I could, moving away but turning around to flash a smile at him (ah, the things this job made me do.). I moved behind the counter, rummaging in the cooler for a beer. Just four more hours to go.

**Matt**

"Damn it all to _fuck_!" Mello announced, busting into the safe house.

Matt didn't even look up from his game. "What's the issue?" he questioned. Fits from Mello were relatively common, it didn't take much to set him off. The mere thought of Near provoked him. And he thought of Near a lot.

"_Near," _he growled. Point proven.

Of course, most of Mello's issues did, in one way or another, come back to Near, the albino genius who had one-upped Mello in their stressful quest to become L's successor. Matt sighed, switching off the PSP and shoving it into his pocket, remembering what had happened to it the last time it was out with Mello in that kind of mood. "Care to elaborate?"

Mello grunted and kicked the sofa where Matt was sitting. "I really hate that goddamned kid."

"Mm," Matt mused, "I had assumed that's why we're here." He lit up a cigarette. "What are you going to do if you figure out you can't beat him?"

The second it was out of his mouth he regretted it. Mello's sole purpose of living, he knew, was to beat Near. To prove his worth, his superiority. What killed Matt was that, compared to anyone else, Mello's intelligence was way beyond superior. Even with his emotions clouding his thinking, Mello's guesses turned out right 99% of the time. Matt was smart, too, third in line behind Mello and Near to become L's successor, but he lacked the fire that Mello thrived on. He sucked in a breath as he felt the cool metal of Mello's gun brush his forehead, a reminder of who he was working with.

"Care to repeat that?" Mello asked, tone scarily calm with just a hint of the underlying anger threaded through the seams of his voice.

"Hey, buddy," Matt said, "put the gun down, man." Matt wasn't nervous, he knew Mello wouldn't shoot, Matt was the closest thing he had to a best friend after all. All the same, it still wasn't a particularly comfortable position to be in.

"I will beat Near, and you _know _it," Mello said roughly, before lowering the gun and taking a step back. "Get out."

Matt sighed, stood up, and walked to the door. The demand's purpose was obviously to give Mello some time alone to think, but Matt was more than happy for the excuse to get some fresh air. He'd been purposely skipping his video game trips because-

Regardless, he hadn't been out in awhile.

He looked back over his shoulder when he reached the door. Mello was sitting on the sofa now, resting his head in his open palms, blonde hair covering his face like a shield. "Mel," he said, softly. But Mello didn't stir, and it appeared he hadn't heard.

* * *

Matt shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked, having ditched his car a couple blocks back to enjoy the outdoors. He looked back up at the sky, and blew out a puff of smoke, watched it dirty the air around him before disappearing. He leaned against the wall of the red-brick building right beside him, let his eyes glaze over and his thoughts roam free. He knew that being completely off guard would and could possibly get him killed someday. But he needed it. This time to think of the case and Kira and Mello and Near.

No. In truth, Rylie had been in the front of Matt's mind since he had met her two weeks earlier, and the times she wasn't in the front of his mind, she had a very prominent space in the back. Her face occupied his dreams, the sound of her voice, the texture of her skin; all things that he definitely imagined but enjoyed nonetheless.

"Who's Rylie?" Mello had asked one morning, and Matt could feel his face heat up. He quickly averted his eyes and looked away, though he still knew that he couldn't lie well enough to fool Mello.

"Who's who?" Matt had questioned innocently, keeping his eyes on the PSP game.

"Rylie," Mello repeated irritably, "you kept saying that over and over again in your sleep. Who is it?"

Matt shook his head. "I don't know any Rylies. I guess my mind just works in strange ways, my friend." But he couldn't deny that his throat burned at the words. It was, after all, Rylie he was thinking about when he was driving the several miles from the safe house, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel and maneuvering endless streets, all the roads that turned in on themselves. And it was still Rylie that he was thinking about now.

He knew he couldn't see her again, and he also knew that it was highly illogical for him to want her so much after just one meeting. And above all else, he knew that more than he wanted her, he wanted her safe and away from everyone he associated with, which meant not even giving himself the chance to get to know her.

Matt didn't consider himself a bad person, exactly- but he was exposed to many, and he wasn't exactly a good person, either. He'd follow Mello anywhere, and 'anywhere' just ended up being the mafia. He spent his days surrounded by big, burly men with guns and skinny prostitutes with even thinner clothes draped over their arms and laps like accessories. He'd tried them out a couple of times, just out of curiosity. It took him a while to be able to hide his disgust from the other men.

Being around all these factors didn't effect Matt as much as they should have, and he knew it. When he wasn't busy with surveillance or hacking or planning or anything someone had for him to get done, he was on his PSP or talking to Mello. He wasn't in as threatening of a position as most of the other guys were in, but he knew that rationally, what he was doing wasn't safe.

He let his eyes close. Thinking about that too long could give a guy a headache. So he just let his mind go blank, letting Rylie's face take up as much space as she needed. Because he knew that no matter how smart he was, even if he had the intelligence of himself and Mello and Near and the original L all combined, he would never be able to make sense of what this girl had done to him.

**Okay so… next chapter up Monday! Um… suggestions and criticism and just plain old comments are the love of my life. Just to let ya know, the events and timeline of this story do not dovetail with the actual Death Note's plotline and timeline. The basic concept is the same, and a lot of things do match, but for a little while some of the details will be a bit blurry. I'm giving my character's personalities a little leeway too, to allow for some romance. (Wiggles eyebrows.) Anyways, happy Friday everyone! Please review and let me know what you think! Next chapter, Rylie and Matt WILL re-meet. **

**-Alice **


	3. Saved by Zero

**Rylie**

Louie's layout is an interesting one- during the day; it is a very family-friendly facility, if you're going to ignore the bad neighborhood and dirty exterior. The large windows let in lots of light; the alcoholic beverages are hidden under the bar and only brought out upon request. The laughter of young children echoes throughout the building, and the bar is empty.

But I don't work those shifts.

I work the nighttime shifts, when even the booths, whose previous tenants were toddlers and overworked parents, house lousy drunks and people trying to escape from it all. The lighting changes to a dimmer, eerier feel and the smell of smoke clouds the air. The taste of liquor is practically tangible and reaches those who aren't even drinking (those people generally being limited to the staff). I'm a waitress here, so when the bar is full and the people move over to the booths, I take care of them. William doesn't like me being by the bar. He says the cops hang out around there most, and he doesn't want them to see me working here. So, I do the same thing as the bartenders. I just have to move around a little bit more.

Currently, I've been pulled onto the lap of someone probably more than twenty years older than myself. It doesn't seem to bother him that, legally, I am not even old enough to be serving alcohol, and yet I do anyways. I wonder if he has a daughter, if he'll ever have a daughter.

"Hey beautiful," he says, and I almost flinch, but I can't because that would make us lose money. Instead, I fill my thoughts with the other boy who has referred to me as such.

"Yes, sir?" I question him, as politely as I can. I don't know why I'm required to be polite, they don't care what I say to them as long as I'm serving them beer and wearing my short skirt.

"How bout you just stay here for a little while," he slurs, dropping his head into the crook between my shoulder and neck and wrapping his hands around my waist.

I'm feeling more than just a little bit uncomfortable with this, and I try to shake him off. "I'm sorry, sir, but I really have to get back to work. Would you like me to get you something to eat or drink?" I ask, shifting in his lap in my attempts to get free. He only seems to like this.

"Nah, I just like you sitting here," he tells me, his voice barely understandable. I feel lips graze the back of my neck, and I stiffen as I try to meet William's gaze from across the room. He is behind the bar, soothing a pair of bikers who are just itching for a fight. He shakes his head slightly. _I'm busy here; just hold on for a couple of minutes. _

I sigh and close my eyes, pretend to be anywhere else. Just three more hours.

* * *

**Matt**

Matt sighed. He was running out of places to walk, and it was already dark. He scanned the row of buildings before him. Tall and dirty, they reeked of bad judgment and even worse character. The middle one, though, caught his eye as the dirtiest, grungiest of the bunch. Louie's Bar and Diner.

He laughed, as he'd never heard of a worse combination. All the same, he'd also never had a better time to get drunk. Matt had already been out for four hours, and while he was sure that Mello had cooled down in this amount of time, he did not feel any need to get back to the safe house. He felt gloriously free here, out in the open, where nobody knew him, and it wasn't a feeling he was used to having, at least not since he had taken up his current residence. He spit out his cigarette, throwing it onto the floor and grinding it under his foot before heading inside.

The atmosphere was manic, the hysteria of alcohol and something a little bit darker filling the air. Smoke also penetrated the room, smoke heavier than what he was used to, causing Matt to be thankful for the goggles he wore that were currently protecting his eyes. He moved towards the bar- this may have also been a diner, but something told him that that wasn't its purpose at night.

"Hey, dude," a guy in his mid-twenties told him, black hair with blue streaks shining in the strange light, "the bar's full, catch a booth."

Matt did as he was told, grabbing the first empty booth he could find and sliding into it. He groaned; he had not been drunk for a long time, and he wasn't sure whether he was going to back out on his decision or not. _What child prodigy, _he questioned himself, _purposefully gets himself drunk?_ And then he remembered. Oh, yeah, that's right, he's no child prodigy- that would be Near or Mello or perhaps even Number Four- and he had nothing to lose at the moment, getting drunk this one time wouldn't cost him anything except a few not-so-precious hours of the perfect awareness he had been born with. The total absence of clear thought was something that normally alarmed him, but right now it was something he was craving. (Semi-absence of thought was something he could deal with, a position he purposefully put himself in whenever he picked up a game console.) Lord knew what Mello was going to do when he got back to the safe house and smelled beer on him, so Matt figured he might as well enjoy it while he could.

"Excuse me, sir, can I get you something?" The voice startled Matt right out of his thoughts, it was so unrightfully familiar. He looked up, and could feel his face split into a wide grin at the sight in front of him.

It was Rylie, in all her red haired, luminously innocent glory. Her eyes widened when she saw him. "Hey!" she said, moving a bit closer to the table, eyes widened and reflecting something that Matt couldn't exactly place. "You're the guy from that Game Stop, aren't you?" she asked him.

She remembered him. "Indeed I am, Rylie," he chuckled, mind in a complete state of shock. _She works here…?_ "You work here?"

She frowned, as if the thought of her surroundings dirtied her mood. "Unfortunately," she murmured.

"Why, you don't like it?" he asked, teasing, eyes surveying her face and taking in her lovely features once again. _I am lucky, I am lucky, I am so, so very lucky, to stumble into this bar and not anywhere else… _

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Well, I'm sure _you _would enjoy getting your ass pinched by dirty old men more than I would."

His face straightened. Matt was, all in all, a pretty mellow guy. Easy come, easy go, just let me have PSP, thank you ma'am, I'm all set. But he'd done a lot of growing up since he'd tracked Mello down- he'd witnessed a lot of things, and while he still maintained his easy demeanor, he was no longer naïve. "Does that happen to you often?" he questioned her.

Rylie seemed mildly surprised by his intensity. "It's kind of the in the job description," she said lightly, smiling at him again, and effectively scattering his thoughts. If only he could piece together _one _coherent thought when she was around… that would be very nice indeed, and then maybe Matt could figure out what to do with this inexplicably draw towards her. She glanced around the crowded building, and blew some of her red hair out of her eyes. "Mind if I sit down for a second?"

Matt smiled warmly at her. "I'd love it, beautiful, but I don't want you to get in trouble."

"Eh," she responded, shrugging, tugging down her skirt (it was, Matt had noticed, very, very short for a skirt, more like a mere piece of black fabric wrapped around her hips than an actual piece of clothing.) and sliding into the booth across from him. "They won't mind, they're all drunk."

Matt laughed. "Geeze, you think?" he commented. _Nope,_ he decided at that moment. _I am _not_ getting drunk, I'll have no need if she sticks around a little longer._ This was the girl who had inexplicably, frustratingly haunted his thoughts since she had first come up and recommended that game to him, and he was perfectly aware of the fact that he had no right to obsess over her. He'd had, what, one conversation with her? Matt was not one to believe in love at first sight, that was not the way he was raised, that had not been something that he'd believed he'd ever encounter (truth be told, from the moment Mello left the orphanage and Matt decided to go after him- and probably quite a while before then, too- Matt had not been anticipating a life long enough to come across such a thing.) All the same he know that, realistically speaking, out of the top three geniuses of Wammy's House, he was the most likely to get lovesick. Naturally.

"Do you like the game?" she asked him, leaning forward across the bar to make herself heard.

He nodded. "It was great."

"_Was?" _Rylie questioned, her tone betraying her surprise. "Are you already _done?" _

"Yep," he replied cheerfully, enjoying her stunned expression. "Finished about six hours into it."

Her eyes widened. "Didn't you die?"

"Nope," he replied nonchalantly, "I don't die."

She shook her head disbelievingly, hair whipping past her face. "I'm impressed."

Matt chuckled. "I have a lot of spare time on my hands."

"You can say that again," Rylie mumbled under her breath, and Matt mock-glared at her.

"What?" he taunted, "you just jealous you can't do better?"

Rylie sniffed. "You wish," she scoffed. Then she paused and looked at him, considering him seriously. "I never did get your name, you know," she said, and looked at him expectantly.

Matt grinned at her. "You trying to hit on me, babe?" he asked her, and watched her face turn bright red. It was a sight he found most appealing. He laughed at her embarrassment. "Relax love, I'm kidding. My name's Matt."

"Matt," she repeated, like she was testing the word out on her tongue. He, for one, knew he liked the way it sounded. "Fits you. It's very nice."

"You think so?" he mused, wondering what she would think of his real name. Not that he would probably ever tell her, considering this meeting was a one in a billion shot, but… He could still wonder. With a brain as large as his, and so little proactive thought occupying it, he had room to dream.

"Rylie!" a sharp voice wafted over to them, and Rylie started quickly, standing up before hitting her leg on the side of the table and wincing in pain. Matt looked over after sending a concerned look her direction, to see the young man who had directed him earlier waving her over.

She sent him an apologetic look. "Sorry, Matt, I'll be back in a second." She walked away before immediately returning. "Oh," she laughed nervously, "I almost forgot. Can I get you anything?"

He smiled lazily at her, the grin unfurling slowly across his face as if he was in no rush. And truly, right now, he wasn't. "Just come back," he told her, trying to bring himself to regret the cheesy words the second they left his mouth. And yet, he found couldn't.

He watched her sashay off into the smoky haze, to serve some other man, probably way more drunken than Matt, and someone who definitely cared about her way less (and really, Matt had to remind himself, he didn't care about her at all. He only thought that she was extremely, extremely hot. Right?), and put his mental war- to leave or not to leave?- to rest. He would stay, and that was final.

But as he watched her bend over to catch the order of the man she was currently waiting on, he couldn't help but think that it was a physical impossibility for him to be sane while her skirt was that short.

_Insanity is very nice. _

* * *

**So sorry for the late update- just got a lot on my plate lately. Um… so, there's gonna be some Rylie x Matt fluff in the next scene! I'm super stoked to write it actually… I know this one's pretty short, and it's pretty much a bridge to get it to where it needs to be for the next chapter. The next chapter is a semi-bridge, but it paves the road for their relationship…**

**AND, I finally finished watching the Death Note series, as of a couple days ago, and while I am now fully informed as to all the plot detail, this story will be changing several of them, while still sticking to the original plot somewhat.**

**But right now, I need your guy's take on something: Rylie will soon also be introduced to Mello. Should he be a side love-interest, or should I leave Rylie solely to Matt? Also, if Mello is not a potential love interest for Rylie, should I just leave Mello all by his lonesome, or should I create another character for him to go off with as a side pairing? I just feel bad leaving him all by himself….**

**So, please review! **

**-Alice**


	4. Helpless

**Rylie**

Matt, as it turns out, is the name of Game Stop boy. The Game Stop boy who is currently sitting at a booth across the room and watching me be pulled into the lap of the guy from earlier. My face burns- _I do not want him to see me like this, I do not want him to see me like this, I do not want him to see me like this- _and I feel his eyes on the back of my head, scalding and sharp. I intake a breath and drop my head.

"Excuse me, sir," I say, trying to make my voice come out older and wiser than it is. I squirm around and the man tightens his hands on my waist- I don't know who has given him more drinks, but somebody has given him more than what our cutoff is. This fact combined with what I'm sure is just natural stupidity (It has to take a certain degree of stupid to get this drunk in the first place.) has made him kind of sloppy with his hands. He reaches up and pulls the curtain around the booth- the curtain that all the back booths still have, from back when this place was something different. My breath cuts off, and I can feel myself start to panic; the one thing I know I shouldn't be doing. I feel one of his hands reach down between my legs and another one seal over my mouth and suddenly I can't think, I can't breathe, all common sense has flown out the window. This, _this _has never happened to me before, not when I'm in a place where no one can see me. And I cannot escape in my mind this time, because I am stuck _here _where his hand is between my legs and his friends are laughing and I'm kicking and yelping and- _who the hell put him in a dark booth in an area that nobody notices unless they're looking?- _looking around frantically for William, but he is not here, he is never here when this happens- _but has _this _happened before? _I can't even recall- and I'm biting at his hands, but he doesn't care, and his friends, they're still laughing and leering, and swaying with drink, and his hand pushes harder and under and searching and this is all happening in a matter of seconds and where have my thoughts gone and- and then, then my defense mechanism kicks in. I feel my eyes flutter. My last thought before I black out entirely is one that runs through my head every fucking day in this place: _Just two more hours. _

* * *

**Matt**

Matt watches Rylie's eyes blink, once, twice, and then a third time, and then she sits up suddenly. She reaches her arms out in front of her searchingly, and then her gaze turns to him and it is as unstable a look as he as ever seen, her eyes disconnected and blurry with Lord knows what. He quickly hops off the ledge he was sitting on and moves to sit in front of her, kneeling with one arm tentatively outstretched. He wants to comfort her, wants to hold her, wants to be a protector instead of a bystander of destruction for once- but he also wishes that she will wake with no memory of what caused her to pass out in the first place.

"Rylie, Rylie," he soothes, and reaches his hands out before she scrambles backwards away from him, hitting her head on the hard concrete wall behind her.

"Ouch," she moans lightly, rubbing the back of her head, and instantly Matt is crouched next to her, fingers twining into her hair and rubbing circles against the offended area before he even knows what hit him. Good God. What happened to smoky, video game addict, escapist Matt? Who is this tender, caring, gives-a-damn person?

"Rylie?" He questions again, and once again she turns her big eyes onto him- now a little less blurry but just as disconnected.

"Matt…" Her voice trails off and she stares at him, stares at his arm and the hand it connects to, still resting at the back of her head. Matt, quite frankly, is a little in awe of how they ended up in this situation- him watching over her in a dirty, backwards alley after dragging her out of the arms of the little perverted maniac with a death wish that he just barely managed to resist murdering- _the little fucker-_, and all the same Matt is admiring his self control. He is surprised that he is not rubbing the pads of his thumbs against her cheeks to wipe away the crystal clear tracks of tears, dried on now that she's been out for a little while. He is surprised that he has not pulled her into his arms already, to provide comfort and availability but also just to see how they fit together.

Rylie blinks a couple more times, slowly and purposefully, and the last remnants of cloudiness are gone when she turns her gaze to Matt again. They are not cloudy anymore, but what they are scares Matt a little bit- they are vivid and sharp and blazing, burning with knowledge and an extremely contradicting sense of naivety. She shakes her head roughly for a second, and Matt's hand slips off it.

"Matt…" Her voice is hoarse and hollow, and it startles Matt. He is used only to her sweet, joking voice- not one as sickeningly candy-coated as that Amane chick's, but a thousand times better to listen to- and to hear her speak in a way that shows her in any sort of sadness and pain is something that jolts Matt in a way he knows he shouldn't be jolted.

"Hey," he tells her, softly. He is sure that she has one wicked headache, so he tries to speak quietly. He doesn't have an overly loud voice, anyway- he gave all his extra volume to Mello a long, long time ago, and the only time he yells now is when he is screeching out profanities at the rare times a video game is actually beating him. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," she says, and her voice is clearer now. She sits back a little bit, and she's sitting loosely, like a ragdoll. Her legs are sprawled out in front of her and her arms are limp at her side. She turns her head to look at Matt, now seated next to her, leaning against the wall, and just lets it roll naturally on the stem of her neck. This totally relaxed posture frightens Matt a little bit- they do not know each other well, she should not wake up from oblivion and trust him implicitly enough to let her muscles and mind go completely slack. There must be something wrong with her. "What happened?"

Matt blinks. She doesn't remember- he doesn't want her to, of course, what happened was bad and Matt is so far from comfortable with it that it is ridiculous. But all the same, the fact that she can't remember is bad- bad, bad, bad. He's thinking brain damage, he's thinking bleeding brains, he's thinking all sorts of horrible, horrible things that could be going on inside of Rylie's head- and the genius number three in Matt should know better, none of these things are plausible, she didn't hit her head earlier, she passed out from stress- though he can't help but feel his heart speed up.

He tries to stop it, he really does. _So what, _he thinks, _if something's wrong with her? She's just a girl. A girl I don't give a shit about. _But the thing is, he does give a shit, he does give a shit and he shouldn't, he doesn't have the right, doesn't have the right genetic makeup to be giving a shit.

"Well." Rylie's voice breaks him out of his mental dilemma- to care or not to care? And does he even really have a choice?- and she stands up, shakily. And because she is standing up, Matt is standing up now also. "Are you going to tell me what happened or not? I don't want to be rude, but I really don't remember ending up an alley with you, and I'm kind of freaking out about it."

She sways on her feet a little bit, and Matt grabs her by the elbows, pulls her a bit closer to him to steady her. (And it's just to make sure she doesn't fall, of course.) "Um…" he lets his voice trail off, not entirely sure about what he wants to tell her. Of course, he can't lie to her. That would be dumb- Matt's not really the lying type. Sure, he might oftentimes leave out huge chunks of the truth… but direct lying is something he tries to avoid. But how exactly does one go about telling a possibly traumatized girl about a near-rape she doesn't remember?

"Oh, my God," she says suddenly, and Matt looks at her. _Does she remember…? _"Did you kidnap me?" she exclaims, and her eyes widen to an off putting degree.

"Kidnap you?" Matt repeats. Kidnap… really? Kidnap? And though he realizes that it's probably not an unreasonable conclusion to come to, he thinks it's quite adorable. Kidnap her… Jesus. "Um, no," he tells her, trying not to chuckle at the suggestion.

She just seems takes his word for it, strangely enough, and Matt is not sure if he is happy or sad about this . "Okay, then, I feel kind of stupid now…" she remarks, looking down at her feet. "But if you're not some creepo kidnapper who hangs out in random bars to pick up broke, homeless waitresses, what exactly am I doing out here with you?"

Matt looks down at her. They are standing awfully close now, and Rylie has to tilt her head up to look at him. He smiles down at her- she's still stunning, even with pale cheeks, shiny with tears, and bloodshot eyes with running makeup. And the top of her head just about grazes his shoulders.

"You know, you're kind of short," he tells her, dancing around the subject that was sure to come up.

"Oh, dear lord!" Rylie exclaims, throwing her hands up, and Matt laughs at the gesture. So childish and fitting. "I am so not that short! 5'1 is not that short! And stop avoiding the question." The statement seems so extremely un-Rylie (though really, Matt doesn't know Rylie at all, who the hell does he think he's kidding?) and so exasperated, that it sobers Matt.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Matt asks, and his voice is deadly serious. Rylie blinks once, confused, and her brow furrows in concentration. He watches as she pulls her bottom lip into her mouth once again- and while he could think of many other things he'd like to do to that bottom lip…. Never mind, he should be exiting that train of thought right about now. And then her eyes widen, and she grabs both his forearms with her small hands, and even though Matt is almost 100% sure she wasn't consciously doing it, the contact burns through the fabric of his shirt and sears straight into his skin. "I remember!" she says, and her voice is kind of excited, though Matt doesn't know why. He'd be more horrified, if it was him.

"What, exactly, do you remember?" he questions her. He knows false memories happen more often than people give them credit for- people come up with what they want to believe. Once, back at Wammy's House a long time ago, Mello had "accidentally" pushed Matt off a tree that the two of them were climbing (though considering it was Matt who had fallen and not anyone else, the probability that it genuinely was an accident increased by about 50%) and Matt had lost consciousness. When he woke up, he could remember the branch with perfect clarity- wobbly, knobby, and crooked, a bit too thin for even a lanky ten year old to be climbing. He could remember that branch- dent for tiny dent- but he could not remember anything about the day preceding his fall. And what he thought he remembered was entirely different from reality- in his vision of that day, Mello surpassed Near in the rankings, he was happy, for once, he offered Matt a piece of his chocolate. Roger let him get a puppy. Near mysteriously presented him with a brand new video game.

In point of fact, none of those things actually happened. Matt would have loved for them to happen and since Matt never recovered the real memories of that day, that's how Matt remembered it. Bringing us back to the point… if Rylie was smiling at whatever it was that she was remembering, Matt figured she was probably remembering something wrong.

"What is it that you remember?" he questioned again, pressing a little bit closer to her.

She bit her lip even harder. "I remember…"

**Author's Notes: So yes, I recognize that this is totally lame. And scattered. This chapter is necessary, but I couldn't figure out how to piece it all together… And I have major issues writing what would go on in Rylie's head during a sexual assault. I am aware that is a very serious issue, and I am not trying to lighten its impact in any way. I just tried to get that sense of blind panic in there. I have a feeling I failed. So, yeah. You'll hopefully see what actually happened to Rylie and how Matt got involved (cuz some slightly sexist heroics are always nice, right?) on… Wednesday? Probably Wednesday, or by next weekend if I'm being realistic. Next chapter Matt makes a move (go Matt!) and in maybe… hm, three of four more chapters I'm gonna bet on Mello being introduced. Comments and suggestion for the plot (which is kinda sketched out but still pretty flexible) are always welcome and beloved, and they make me update a helluva a lot faster! **

**-Alice **

**P.S – Still in want of more deciding votes on the whole Mello/Rylie Mello/OC issue. Kind of getting split ideas…. And I'm halfway torn. Urgh. **


	5. If You're Gonna Fake It, Fake It

**Okay-dokey, so… Haha, yeah. Prepare for this chapter to be anti fantastic. I'm kind of in an awkward part of the plot, where things are necessary but not exactly fun to write. Additionally, just so people know, I am starting a line of Death Note males x OC stories, which originated with this one. They all kind of lead into one another. I have one for L, Mello, Near, and another one with L and B (not as a coupling.). The L x OC one I have up right now shall soon be removed… it'll be the same basic premise, just with a couple changed details. The girl in the new one is called Emma, and the story is entitled Murder is What You Make of It. My one for Mello is called Set the Fire to the Third Bar, and the girl's name is Gracie. (It's set after this story, however, so this says nothing about whether or not I will have a Mello/Rylie thing going on.) My Near one is called Ragdoll Royalty and the girl is Alexandria. And my second L one is an L x OC x Beyond fic (I know, but everyone has to try with B, don't they? He's so intriguing.) and the girl's name is Abigail. More on those later, and they're not up yet, just wondering if anyone would be interested….**

**Anyways, this plot should start to clear up soon and Matt and Rylie's relationship should start getting pretty heavy pretty quick. You have no idea how much feedback is appreciated!**

**xXx **

**Rylie**

I'm not the chick you go to when you want to talk about out of body experiences- I'm more likely to tell you that you're off your rocker than to actually give a damn. But, inside this bar, my place of goddamn _employment,_ I am having one. I mocked them when I saw them on wannabe-Oprah's talk shows, and now here I am. I _see_ my body- pinned onto the lap of a pudgy forty-something year old, whose fingers are currently inside my panties and doing something quite furiously- but I cannot _feel_ it. And for that I am thankful, I never really enjoyed that experience even when it was something I was doing voluntarily. What I am _not _thankful for, however, is the bloody curtain currently blocking the booth, where my unconscious body is being assaulted, from the rest of the bar. Back when this place was created in the 1970s, it was an even shadier establishment than it is today. Officially, it was a strip club. Unofficially, it was a place to pay for sex. The booths were seated around a stage in the center of the place (which has since been removed), and when you were willing to pay the extra bit to actually get some action, you could pull the curtains closed and there you go. Since this place was found out by the cops and converted, most of the curtains had been tossed out with the stage. But William- trying to be cute and kind of nostalgic, I guess- had kept the ones around the booths in the back of the room. Fantastic.

I return my attention to my body- God, this is so strange, sitting here and watching myself like this. I want to make myself move, even if it means feeling this, and I want to kick and scream and bite and get the hell away from there- but I cannot. I can only stand here, a few feet away, and watch, detached, with my back pressed against the curtain. I'm screaming at the guy- but he can't hear me. I can't even describe it- perhaps I am dreaming. If I am dreaming, everything makes sense again. Suddenly a bright light comes in from behind me and sears across my vision- a body quite a bit larger than mine barrels past, and I catch a flash of hair just a little less red than my own.

"Get the fuck off of her!" It's Matt. Oh, sweet fucking Lord. It is my goggle clad, video game addicted savior. And then that man _is _off my body, and it is all happening a little too fast for me to comprehend. My body has dropped to the ground and I wince- that'll leave a few bruises later. Matt has dropped to the floor beside my body and lifted me up into his arms, and this I actually wish I could feel. It's kind of bizarre to watch- he is cradling me extremely tenderly, but the look in his eyes is anything but.

"What the fuck, man!" My assailant is approaching Matt now. "What was that all about?"

"That was about _me_ getting _you _off of_ her_," Matt says coldly. He looks like he is about to beat the guy up. Matt takes a step forward, and the look on his face does not suit him, it is too rough and tumble and dark. For a second the look on his face scares even me, in my untouchable corner of the room where I have no physical body. But then he looks down at me and his face softens, and he brings his fingers up to brush along my cheekbone gently. I stiffen, but only because I am startled- I have felt nothing until this, but I can feel his hands; they are soft and surprisingly warm, and the warmth spreads across my face as I feel it heat up. I know that I do not want him to fight for me- this boy should not have to fight, he can't be much older than I am.

"That was a dumbass move, man," my attacker says, taking a step towards Matt. They are too close for comfort to me.

Matt surveys him. "You touching her was a dumbass move, man. Now I am about this close to totally losing my cool and beating the shit out of you, now I suggest you get out of my fucking way."

The man sizes Matt up, trying to decide whether he's worth the fight. Matt might be thin, but he is tall and if you look closely you can see the lean muscle just under his surface. And he is carrying all 105 pounds of me like it is no problem at all. Apparently, he concludes it isn't worth the bother. He steps back, and beckons his little herd towards him. "Whatever man, it's just some dumb whore. Chill out."

Matt grits his teeth. "She's not some whore, and I suggest you leave this place before I rethink my decision and you end up leaving it in an ambulance."

His defense of me makes my heart flutter- and it is all happening very quick. In the last half hour, I have re-met a guy I had obsessed over because of a single glance, gotten sexually assaulted, and was then rescued and had my honor protected by before mentioned guy. What next? The other man doesn't say anything, and then Matt just turns on his heel and leaves, and I feel myself slowly returning to my body- rejoining as one.

And I can't quite make myself believe that this is all a dream.

* * *

I look up at Matt, standing next to me and looking down at me worriedly. "Thanks," I tell him, a small smile gracing my lips.

He grins at me tiredly before pressing his lips into a thin line and nodding. Things are awkward for me, now. I'm feeling so stupid- I always have that sort of melodramatic reaction to the overzealous drinkers, even though I should be used to it by now. Thankfully, I've adapted out of the aftershocks. Matt is leaning against the cold bricks of the wall now, lighting a cigarette and sticking it in between his lips carelessly, a PSP hanging out of a pocket near his hip. I lean against the wall opposite him and examine him carefully.

"So," he says finally, his head tilted back and looking up at the sky. He clears his throat. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I say, glad to see my voice has regained its typical strength. "Really, though, thank you for that."

He drops his head and looks straight at me. "It was no problem. I really don't like people like that."

I chuckle slightly. "Eh, generally speaking most people with good common sense don't."

He smiles wryly at me. "Why do you work there?" he asks me, "no offense, but it's kind of horrible."

I laugh at the sheer absurdity of the statement. "It's only horrible at night. Come back in the daytime- it's actually a pretty cool place. And I need the money."

"Do you work there in the daytime?" he asks me, removing his cigarette from his lips and holding it carefully between his fingers.

"Nah," I say, biting my lips. Gosh, he's hot. He grins at me, and he looks so boyish and mischievous that for a second he resembles my five year old nephew in that expression al one.

"Then I probably won't come in the daytime," he says, "unless you come with me, of course."

"Hmm," I say pretending to consider, "is that you attempting to ask me out?" My heart beats a little bit faster. Good lord, I'm such a dork…

"That depends on your answer, naturally," he says cheerfully.

"I'd love to do that sometime then," I respond, and watch his face light up.

"That's great, beautiful." He pauses and looks down at the ground, shuffles his foot. "You want me to walk you home?" he asks me, extending his hand. I am so close to taking it. So close to taking it and gripping it and letting him walk me home- but I don't have a home, and I do have to work, and even this beautiful, childlike man can't change my mind.

"I have to go back to work," I say, frowning.

Matt looks at me shocked. "You're going back in there?" His voice is confused.

I shrug. "I need the money," I tell him.

"But, beautiful, aren't you… I mean, you can't really be okay, I just… I was trying to ask, but I don't know how to deal with that sort of stuff, and I didn't want to pressure you or whatever…I mean, precious, I don't think you should go back in there."

I smile at him. God, he's adorable. Anybody else, I'm sure, could be traumatized from an experience like that- while not rape, at my age it's enough to make anyone uncomfortable. And don't get me wrong, it's not like I enjoy it- but to make up for the numerous times it has and will happen to me, my body has a coping mechanism- while I can't do much about the biting, metallic panic that sets for the _during, after_ I am as I was before- ready to work with an easy awareness of what I'm putting myself through.

Then again… maybe I do have aftershocks. Because reaching up and brushing my fingertips across Matt's lips and watching his eyes widen behind the goggles with a sort of satisfaction I'm not used to- that is not my normal, shy, cautious Rylie.

So, those may be the aftershocks, that move and the stomach filled to the brim with something that is far too large for butterflies, and the shaky limbs, and the electric outline of Matt imprinted in my brain. Those may be the aftershocks. But then again, it might also just be Matt.

I drop my fingers down to my sides; clench them up into a fist to preserve the feel of him. His lips are as soft and as warm as his hands, though I cannot explain what possessed me to be so forward. "I have to work," I tell him, pretending that I had the resolve to not follow him if he walked away me, "but if you're here in two hours, you can still walk me home. If you don't mind."

Matt grinned at me. "I think I might just stick around."

I would have argued, quite honestly, two hours is a long time to sit around in a smoky bar with nothing to do but stare at a not-so-pretty waitress as she gets hit on, but I wanted him to stay. It had been a long time since I'd had an honest-to-goodness crush. I turned around and headed back into the building, flashing a smile at him when I heard his footsteps echo mine. Just two more hours left.

**Okay, so… No Matt in this chapter! I miss him! Well, I mean, there's Matt in this chapter… but no Matt section in this chapter. Next chapter, however, will be solely Matt's, no section for first-person Rylie. Um… yeah. I don't know how to deal with Rylie's psyche as a person who's undergone sexual assault. I'm kind of shooting blindly in the dark and giving her a reaction that is unique to her character. This is a bit of a darker chapter, and totally awkward to write…. Um, I can't wait for the fluff to resume! It won't be much longer, I promise. I estimate roughly four chapters till Rylie and Mello meet… My decision on their relationship is still up for you guys to decide, but I pretty much have my mind made up. **

**Please gimme some feedback! **

**Next chapter should be up tomorrow or the day after!**

**Thank you to all my reviewers!**

**Love, Alice**


End file.
